O'er which the wall of many a cottage-home
Graced with the climbing vine, or beautified
With roses bending to each passing breeze,
Attracts the eye, and glistens in the sun--
Were interspersed around; while in the vale
The streamlet gave a silver gleam, and flow'd
Beneath the hill, on whose majestic brow,
Dimm'd with the ivy of a thousand years,
The rural fane, encircled with its tombs,
Displayed its mouldering form. Amid the light
And harmony of this enchanting scene,
'Tis sweet to have a temple that recalls
The heart from earth's turmoil, and hallows it
With hopes that soar beyond the flight of time.

Beautiful Lake! most lovely Windermere!
Thou mirror to the mountains that enclose
Thy shores with zone magnificent;--in storm,
Or calm--when summer wantons with thy waves,
Or winter clouds thy crystal brow with gloom,
Oh! mayst thou still entrance the wanderer's eye,
And keep congenial quiet in his soul.
Thy fairy haunts, where solitude pervades
The feelings like a spirit, might allure
Some visionary youth to muse beneath
The rocks empurpled with the sunny beam,
And blend the music of his harp with thine
In gentlest murmurs,--consecrated Lake!

G.R.C.

* * * * *

NEW BOOKS.

* * * * *

PETER THE GREAT.

(_Concluded from page 303._)

His attention was forcibly attracted to the magnificent building of
Greenwich Hospital, which, until he had visited it, and seen the old
pensioners, he had some difficulty in believing to be any thing but a
royal palace. King William having one day asked him how he liked his
hospital for decayed seamen, the Tzar answered, "If I were the adviser
of your Majesty, I should counsel you to remove your court to
Greenwich, and convert St. James's into a hospital."

It being term time while the Tzar was in London, he was taken into
Westminster Hall; he inquired who all those busy people in black gowns
and flowing wigs were, and what they were about? Being answered, "They
are lawyers, sir;"--"Lawyers!" said he, with marks of astonishment,
"why, I have but _two_ in my whole dominions, and I believe I shall
hang one of them the moment I get home."[1]

[1] Gentleman's Mag. vol. vii.

In the first week of March, vice-admiral Mitchell was ordered to
repair forthwith to Spithead, and, taking several ships (eleven in
number) under his command, hoist the blue